


Art

by Kit_SummerIsle



Series: Cybertronian Advent Calendar [11]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Advent Calendar, Ballet, Prejudice, aerial ballet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-15
Updated: 2013-12-15
Packaged: 2018-01-04 18:17:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1084153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kit_SummerIsle/pseuds/Kit_SummerIsle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Advent Calendar Day 14 - prompt: ballet<br/>Starscream can dance. Yes, he can.<br/>G1-ish, indeterminate time after the war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Art

“But how could giant, transforming robots know what ballet is?”

Optimus kept back his irate mate from immediately stepping on the human male, innocently asking the question on a diplomatic meeting. He felt the insult in the supposition too, that robots – as humans insisted on calling them – can’t know anything about art and its various forms. Pit, most of them still didn’t believe that Sunstreaker painted those famous pictures or that most of them could sing, probably far better than an average human. Dance in general was particularly hard for them to understand, for some reason, which Optimus didn’t quite get vice versa.

“We do know what it is, Mr Sankey. Seekers in particular have a rich tradition in aerial ballet.”

“That’s right, Mr Someone or other, we can dance, even though your little brains cannot…”

“Starscream! No need to insult. I’m sure the Ambassador didn’t mean to either.”

The human started to stutter and retreated several steps from the visibly angry Seeker.

“B-b-but I just…”

“You just insulted us, human, by calling us robots and doubting that we could understand art.” – Starscream could convey many feelings with his voice, but outrage and indignation were its particular forte. This time, he put both into his hissing answer, despite Optimus trying to calm him.

“In fact, later this evening we can all watch a performance of Starscream’s Trine. I am looking forward to your opinion afterwards, Mr. Sankey.” – Optimus gave Starscream this: even his own, legendary patience was sorely tried by humans many times over this topic.

The human left and the evening dragged on, at least in Starscream’s opinion, who saw these diplomatic parties completely pointless and only attended them for his bondmate. He, too could hardly wait until they could show these pitiful organics what a few trines of Seekers could do in the air!

Just before sunset, the attendance was politely herded out to the balconies and the main program could begin. 

“But Mr Prime, our ballets are not just simple dances, they tell a story too.” – the human was back to Optimus Prime’s side, on a raised platform, looking much braver now with Starscream not present. The Seeker on the outside just rose in the air in root form, his solitary dance amazing in the backdrop of the sunset colours. 

“Ours do that too. Have you not looked at the program, Mr Ambassador? The Seekers are performing a ballad of sorts, the story of a journey, love and magic, coming from Seeker culture. It is called Transition, but the older translation is Through the Mirror.”

“Ohh… I didn’t know that. But… but how? I mean they just… fly, right?”

“No, they are doing far more than ‘just flying’. They are dancing, like human ballet dancers. Look.”

Outside, Starscream’s solitary figure was joined by Skywarp and his flying visibly started to include the other flier; their moves complimented each other, they touched occasionally and it was accompanied by coloured lights from the ground that enhanced their moves. Soon the third and the fourth flier joined in and the dance became more complex, and indeed telling a story of sorts, of Seekers meeting, courting, living through adventures and became embroidered in magic – Skywarp’s jumps accented this part spectacularly – and as the story went on tangled with danger, fought them down and found each other again. 

“Incredible…”

The human by the Prime’s side watched with obvious amazement and surprise and Optimus smiled slightly under his mask. It was slow having to convince humans one by one, but they had time. It went farther than just the doubt in having arts, as humans who believed in this usually thought them ‘soulless’, mere machines, like it was something only intelligent beings could do. Every one who changed their views were a bonus in the diplomatic relations. 

“Indeed. They are famous for this and they love to perform for themselves and to others.”

“B-but… aren’t they… warriors?”

“And the two is mutually exclusive in your opinion? All Seekers can dance and most of them can do it very well. But yes, they are also excellent warriors.”

In the sky, the ballet was nearing to its end, most of the Seekers have already landed or were providing just a background picture for the main scene, where Thundercracker held Starscream as they pirouetted so fast as to be nearly a blur. The centrifugal forces tore them apart and they fell nearly in freefall, but with movements that clearly showed intent and expression, sadness and misery, until Skywarp caught the tricoloured jet while the blue one slowed, wobbled and left the scene. 

“Are they… you know… an item?”

“Are your ballet dancers… _you know_?” – Optimus couldn’t quite keep the sarcastic edge out of his voice. Maybe Starscream was rubbing off on him more than he’d thought. The human had the sense to flush red in shame and shut up, so they could enjoy the final moments of the ballet, the finale with all fliers in the air again, performing feats and moves spectacular and seamlessly interconnecting at the same time, expressing joy and fulfilment as the story dictated; amongst the deepening colours of the setting sun.

Optimus had to admit that they were easily on par with some of the Seeker ballets he’d seen many vorns ago, as a young Prime and it was easy to join the audience’s applauding and send his sparkfelt praise through the bond to the flustered, tired but immensely proud mate. It was good to have this small part of their culture back after the war which – he admitted to himself – have done much to cull these finer points.


End file.
